Beyond the Murder Cases
by Author of Scifi
Summary: Ever wondered what the LABB Murder Cases would look like from L or B's perspective? This fanfiction is going to attempt to do exactly that! I'm going to basically be rewriting the ENTIRE book from L and B's perspective. Reviews are VERY appreciated.
1. Prologue: The Snake's Head

_Phew, this is a pretty big project I've taken on here. I'm going to _try _to basically rewrite the entire LABB Murder Cases book from L and B's perspectives. Something I've always thought about doing, but only now decided to execute it. I expect it will be very interesting though, and I hope you guys enjoy it just as much (and preferably more) as I do! By the way, review definitely encourage me to write faster... so be kind and review? Or B will sneak into your house at night and... I don't know, turn you into a clock. _

_Well, let's get started, shall we?_

**Beyond the Murder Cases**

**Prologue**

L's pale, thin fingers flipped through the files adeptly, the documents making almost no sound as his fingers weaved in and out of the papery forest. _Solved, solved, solved, solved, in progress, solved, solved… _in his mind he mentally checked off all of the cases that he had recently closed. He sniffed and ran his free hand through his raven hair. He was at a low point in his 'career', if you could call it that. He had very few cases to work on at this point, and he was thirsting for a challenge. The most recent case had concerned an emerging bio-terror group, but the difficulty level had been unexpectedly low. Other than that, same old stories; serial killings, serial killings, serial killings. When you got to be at L's caliber you rarely even thought about solving such insignificant cases as strings of robberies and drug rings; those normally didn't have a lot of people's lives or money at stake. Thus, L received almost a constant stream of cases about serial killers. Problem was, even the best serial killers couldn't provide a real challenge for L. As a result, he was, well, bored a lot more than you would expect the top detective in the world to be. He licked his lips and sighed softly. _I'm craving some strawberry shortcake… _he stood up, stretched and walked off down the metallic, cold hallway, easily making his way through the dark hallways toward the kitchen of the underground facility. Normally he would ask Watari to serve him his food, but he had nothing better to do now, did he?

As his fingers closed around the cold door handle of the fridge, his cell phone rang, each tone echoing eerily in the kitchen. L shoved his free hand into his pocket, grabbed the phone, opened it and held the phone to his ear, holding it only with his thumb and index fingers.

"L, it's Watari. I think you might want to take a look at this case. I'm sending the files to your computer now."

"Thank you, Watari," L said shortly, then turned off the phone, not even bothering to put it back in his pocket. He simply opened up the fridge and peered in, taking his time, not expecting the new case to be anything significant.

He was wrong.

He sat down at his computer with his coffee and his cake, turned it on and reviewed the files. At first glance, it looked normal. _Code Beta, of course, Designation Quadrant 3, Area 13, in other words, LA, casualties so far… three?! _L straightened abruptly and stared at the number. _Three? Only three casualties? Why would Watari…? _A jolt of electricity shot through L's bones when he glanced at the summary of the case. Two words stood out among them all. Wara and Ningyo.

"Oh, gods," hissed L, and he slammed his coffee cup against the floor. "So, the snake finally shows emerges from its hole?"

L stuck his thumb into his mouth and nibbled madly. How long had it been since adrenaline coursed through his veins so rapidly? How long had it been since a case had aroused him so much? Maybe never? And no sooner than the great battle between himself, Dueneve and Coil, which had been about four years ago…

Nostalgia overwhelmed L as he thought of the first time he had ever seen B. It had been quite a while ago, right after A had committed suicide. L had decided to visit Wammy's and personally inspect the students, the teachers and the orphanage itself. He didn't call himself L, of course, but rather said he was one of the few in contact with L and he was inspecting Wammy's personally. At the time only B and C were present, and they were both exceptional students. C seemed normal by Wammy's standards, but B… now _there _was an enigma.

B was extraordinarily intelligent. Maybe even as smart as L when L had been his age. He could compute calculus accurately in his head and did geometry for fun. He was absolutely fascinated by the sciences, and would often go on solitary walks through the woods behind Wammy's, studying the creatures and making note of every small detail. Nothing escaped his sharp notice.

Now that's all well and good, but B also had some… dark tendencies. At night L often heard him walking through the halls at Wammy's, humming melancholy tunes and singing haunting melodies about death and grief. He had also glanced at some of the books B read in his spare time. Their titles were such as _The Art of Murder, Science of Death, Blood on my Hands. _He was also always a bit too eager to be the murderer in the roleplays at Wammy's that were meant to sharpen their investigation skills.

One other thing disturbed L to no end; B held a fascination with superstitions and items pertaining to that of the supernatural world. He always seemed to be searching for truth even outside of science, as if there was something that troubled him that science could not explain. The few times L had been there, B had been intrigued with the Japanese Wara Ningyos, and had been experimenting with them. Of course, the experiments failed, but it still perturbed L. Anyway, the fact that Wara Ningyos were being used in the case couldn't be the only reason that Watari had sent L this case. As L read on, he was thoroughly amazed at the lengths the murderer, presumably B, went to.

One, the locked doors. It was so obviously murder; the first time the victim's chest had been slashed multiple times and strangled from behind, two feats that were practically impossible to do by oneself, and certainly impossible to do both to yourself. The other two murders were committed by bludgeoning and massive hemorrhaging, neither viable suicide methods. So what was the purpose of the locked doors…? Simply to show it was done by the same person? No, the Wara Ningyos did that. _Maybe he wanted to make this case so eccentric so that I would know that it's him… _As L read over the police files some more, he also read that _every _fingerprint in the house had been wiped. Maybe just a precaution, but going as far as wiping light bulb sockets…? Beyond eccentric and into psychotic, no pun intended. Again, was B only showing L that it was really him? Then L saw the names of the victims. _Believe Bridesmaid, Quarter Queen, and Backyard Bottomslash? BB, QQ, BB? Oh B, it couldn't be a coincidence… Wara Ningyos, extreme eccentric-ness and now Bs and Qs? _Q also had an inside meaning. One assignment at Wammy's had been to pick a letter and to try and put into words what you felt or thought when you heard the letter. A seemingly simple task, but yet not so simple. You couldn't just say 'Q reminds me of queen' or 'B reminds me of barbeque'. You had to explain the emotions that were aroused when you thought of that letter. In order to do so you had you cast aside the limitations that this one letter seems to have and think of it as a concept on its own. It required a kind of thinking that was rarely explored but the kind that was a requisite at Wammy's. B, always one to go over and beyond, had chosen two; B and Q, and had explained in very eloquent paragraphs the kind of mysterious and lost feeling he felt when he thought of the simple letter 'Q', especially. It was so intricate and deep it had almost blown L's mind. Not the essay itself, but the depth of B's feelings on something as seemingly simple as a letter.

_It's truly you, isn't it? _L ran his hands nervously through his hair again, wincing as his hands got caught in the amazingly tangled hair and and the strands yanked at his scalp. This was clearly a direct challenge to him, and he couldn't, _wouldn't _let B beat him here. _I absolutely must get this lunatic apprehended and imprisoned… I must_.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The knife sliced through his skin rather easily. The shirtless man winced slightly, but otherwise enjoyed the pain. It made him feel so alive. _So L, found me yet? Heh heh heh… no, much too generic… hak hak hak… no, much too… cough like. Ha ha ha… again, too generic and happy… oh, screw it. _

He stopped attempting to perfect his laugh and dragged the knife down his arm a little farther, then lifted the instrument above his head and stuck out his tongue, savoring every drop that slowly dripped onto the stationary, wet muscle. _Is there really any better taste that blood? Well, yes, jam I suppose, but blood is just so… it just embodies life. The river of life, the fountain of youth that runs through every man, woman and child, but can be wrung out so easily. Human kind is so weak… _faced with the simple fact of death so brutally and abruptly every day conditioned you to that fact. A few drops of warm blood slid down his throat. He closed his mouth, set the knife down beside him and sat up, then sneezed. _Ugh, it's so dusty in here… the concrete is just covered with the stuff. _He had never gotten carpet added into his apartment. He just liked concrete more. _Hard and cold, just like me._

"Kyah kyah kyah!" He let out a short, staccato laugh then easily leapt up into a standing position. He walked over to his desk and accessed his computer. _Mmhm, mmhm, boring, boring, ah _hah! _L.A. Serial Locked Room Killings…. Yes, it's about me… seriously now, such a mundane name? And they only wrote about two paragraphs on it? It doesn't even begin to shed light on my genius… most people are such idiots. _A drop of blood ran down his fingers and onto his mouse, making it somewhat difficult to click. He clucked his tongue. _No, not quite right… _he clucked his tongue again, but this time with a bit more force and more to the left than the middle. _Ah, much better. Amazing how people go through life without worrying about such details. _He shut down his computer without bothering to wipe the blood off his mouse and laid back down on the concrete floor, this time twirling the knife above his head, knowing that if he dropped it, it might impale his face or stomach. He knew that he wouldn't drop it, of course, but what was the purpose of doing something if there wasn't even minimal risk involved? Then you wouldn't do it to your fullest potential and then, well, why are you even doing it?

He sighed enormously, wiped his arm and bound it up with a roll of gauze that was sitting nearby. Normally he wouldn't worry about such things, but he was going back to the scene of the first crime now and didn't want the cut to alert anyone who might come. _The police have been there, filed a report, and Watari's probably gotten it to L right now…. However, the chance is low that he's chosen someone to investigate it for him just yet. Still, I should be there, just in case. _He walked over to the mirror and started applying the heavy, white make-up that would hide his tanned complexion.

And he laughed.


	2. Chapter 1: Begining of the Game

_First chapter, here we go : P The story might be just slightly non-canon (as in not overtly non-canon but probably non-canon) because I'm trying to figure out a way to get L to be a bit more active than just sitting in a room somewhere thinking and talking to Naomi. Thus the non-canon-ness of some of the scenes. Also, Breena Marie pointed out that I made B just a bit too... crazy the last chapter, so I'm definitely going to try to tone him down some for the rest of the book (thanks for the advice, insert smiley here. ; ) ). I _almost _rushed through this chapter and for some reason it seems a bit... off... to me, but I can't figure out why I think it's off. Anyone care to enlighten me? Lol._

_Enough of my blather, let's get to the story. PLEASE REVIEW!! Reviews are my lifeblood..._

**Chapter 1**

_Naomi Misora… I think she's the one. FBI agent with a rather outstanding record, and on leave to boot. Convenient. I could just get the whole FBI on this but I'd rather B not be known to the world. It could expose Wammy's, and that's the last thing I want. _Of course, part of the reason he didn't want B exposed was simple pride, but he refused to consider that aspect of it. _And then there's the fact of why she's on leave in the first place…_

Why did L need someone to do his investigating for him? One, because while he did often visit the scene of the crime, he wasn't comfortable at all spending as much time at a crime scene as he would like too. Even if he tried to appear normal, he just stood out too much. Where B was concerned, it was also paramount that he not appear at the scene of the crime a second longer than required. L shuddered slightly.

L had first considered Naomi Misora when he had been looking through a list of FBI agents stationed in LA and had seen she was on leave, which would of course, free up her time to help with the LABB Murder Cases. He was rather pleasantly surprised when he saw her record; while she was low ranking, she had solved some rather interesting and challenging quandaries (for a normal person, anyway) and had been an integral part of a surprising number of investigations during her short career. She was only on leave because she had refused to shoot a thirteen year old in cold blood… the type of person L was looking for.

Frankly, L didn't want a trigger happy FBI agent who would have no qualms about shooting a serial killer. Why? L didn't _want _B to die. Probably because of some sort of bond he felt with the younger man. Not love, exactly, just the fact that he could understand what and why B was doing what he was doing and, frankly, had liked the kid. Basically, L didn't want a person who would shoot to kill without considering the ramifications first. Of course, L justified this decision with moral reasons and not reasons based on his emotions, but he couldn't help but realize how much he had actually liked the boy. And it bugged him. How could L, the greatest detective in the universe, allow himself to be swayed by emotions?

Easy.

He was human. Just like the rest of us. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't completely set aside those feelings of compassion and empathy.

He growled and pushed the thoughts of B and emotions out of his mind. _I need to get in contact with Naomi Misora-san… I could use her boyfriends email address so that I could ensure that she does answer… in fact, I think that's exactly what I'll do. _Finding personal information like that wasn't as hard as you'd think it would be, especially if you have an extensive grasp of psychology like L. And hacking email addresses was even easier.

He quickly hacked into Ray Penber's email and typed a message to Naomi Misora:

_Naomi Misora-sama_

_I apologize for contacting you like this._

_I would like to request your help in solving a certain case. If you are willing to assist me, please access the third block of the third section of the Funny Dish Server on August 14__th__ and nine a.m. The line will be open for exactly five minutes (please break through the firewall yourself)._

_L_

_PS: In order to contact you, I took the liberty of borrowing your friend's address. This was the simplest and safest way to contact you, so please forgive me. Regardless of whether you agree to help me or not, I need you to destroy this computer within twenty-four hours of reading this message._

Of course, half of the email was rhetoric and pleasantries since he knew that no one in their right mind would refuse him, but he really didn't think it would be cordial to just type 'I'm L, I need help, log on to etc. so I can give you your assignment'.

L quickly proofread it, more out of habit than need, and pressed the enter button. As soon as it sent, he deleted the message, then logged out then erased any trace of his hacking into Ray's email account. Satisfied his tracks were covered, he set up a connection to the Funny Dish server, programmed it into 'stasis' mode and stood. He decided that he would take a look at the crime scene himself. While Naomi would be doing most of the investigating, he wanted to at least see all the crime scenes for himself, at least for a moment. Being there in person couldn't be replaced by pictures or police files.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

B grunted and shifted under the bed. He stared at the wooden beams that were supporting the bed and noticed every imperfection, every irregularity in the grain and the make. He noticed the slight stain on one of the beams (how it got there he couldn't imagine) and how the edges of the one at the end was rougher than those of the one that was directly above his head. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Sitting here under the bed was so boring… _come on L, surely you've found a lackey to do your bidding by now?_

He clucked his tongue, this time getting it just right his first attempt. Rolling over onto his side, he stared at the bookshelf directly across from him. _I _did _do everything perfectly, didn't I? No mistakes… no, of course not, B doesn't make mistakes. _He chuckled, frowned, decided a sigh would be more appropriate, and let out a small sigh. _I am so stiff… _his ears perked as he heard the front door open then close. The sound wasn't at all concealed. In fact, it was almost as if the person was announcing his arrival, so obtrusive was the sound. _Who is that? Surely that's not one of L's lackeys… _he rolled back onto his back and quieted his breathing, laying absolutely still. _Well, if it is, then tsk tsk L, lowered your standards? _He listened, the sound of feet sliding across carpet reaching his keen ears. _Why is he walking so funny? _

After a few minutes, the stranger wandered into the bedroom. B couldn't see a person's name or lifespan unless he could see the person's head, but judging from the clothing it was just a teenager who had decided to be naughty and wander onto a crime scene. All B could see was the shin down, and the teen was wearing dirty tennis shoes and ripped jeans. From the way the foot was angled on the carpet, he had was slouching. He stood there for a second, then started walking around the room. When he moved farther away, B could see he had on a black jacket and had chains hanging from his pants. Definitely a curious and maybe trouble making teen. _Just what I need, _he thought to himself, annoyed.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

L scratched the nape of his neck and adjusted his black jacket. _Who would wear something like this voluntarily…? _He sighed and ambled over to the bookshelf. Briefly he wondered if anyone was in the vicinity, he figured the slamming door would scare him or them away, but you could never know. Especially if…

He glared down at the chains as they jangled. Normally he would have just gone out in his normal attire, but in this case he had had to disguise himself so that if B ever saw him, he wouldn't recognize him (of course, he made this assumption ignorant of the shinigami eyes). He figured that dressing like a pothead wanna-be-gangster teen would be the last thing B would expect him to disguise himself as. In reality, he wasn't that worried about B seeing him, since L figured there was a 93% chance that B didn't want to kill him but just humiliate him, but you could never be too careful. _Well, no, _he mentally corrected himself,_ absolutes are rarely true… _he bent down to look at the bottom row of books on the bookshelf and planned to work his way up when he thought he heard a soft, almost inaudible gasp. Immediately all of his senses were heightened. He stood up straight and turned, tempted to call out 'hello?' but knowing such a thing would accomplish nothing. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Where had the sound come from…?

"Hey kid, I'd get out of here if I was you."

L, shocked, snapped his eyes open and found himself staring right into the deep, black pools of… _oh gods, it's B. I knew I shouldn't have been so careless. No, wait, I had actually wanted to meet him. _It wasn't until L stood facing the murderer in the flesh that he realized that fact. _Why does he look just like me…? _He yelped and jumped back, not so much out of surprise as in staying in character. He adopted his teenage, naïve, nasally voice and asked, "Yo, who are you?"

B answered, "I'm a detective. Kid, do you know that this is a crime scene? You shouldn't be here."

"Well shoot, I knew this was a crime scene. It's been all over the news."

"Then why are you here? Crimes aren't a joke, kid, you could contaminate the evidence. You know what that means, don't you?"

"Well, I'm not really into the law business, so…" L glanced sheepishly down at his dirty tennis shoes, elated and terrified at the same time. He struggled to control his countenance. _Well, ask him something about the case, come on! You're just a curious teenager, asking questions won't be suspicious… _"Hey mister, you have any ideas about who did this?"

B snorted and waved his hand. "Get out of here kid. Or I might press charges."

L gave a small squeak. "Sorry for wasting your time." He turned heel and ran out the door. Once he was down the sidewalk he ran faster, trying to get away from B. _Well, at least now I have a general grasp of the crime scene. It'll be easier for me to follow what Naomi Misora says now… anyway, onto the other crime scenes. But… if B was there today, he'll probably be there every day… which means… oh gods, I hope Naomi will be alright. _

And of course, L can't just call up the authorities and get them to pick up this creeper guy who happened to be hiding under a bed in the crime scene because he suspected that the guy was the killer because the killer just happens to be his successor who happened to have a fascination with Bs, Qs, and Wara Ningyos when he was in Wammy's House. Firstly, to even attempt to arrest B would force the revelation of the Wammy House, and would put all of his successors in jeopardy, not to mention would expose the tragedies of A and B. Secondly, no court would decide B, or whatever alias he was going by now, is guilty just because of the hunch of a crazy quirky detective who might just live in your grandma's basement.

So L walked away, chewing his thumbnail, dreading yet eagerly awaiting the challenge he knew was to come.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As B rearranged himself back under the bed, he released an amused cackle. "Kyah hah hah hah hah! Let the games begin!" He frowned slightly. _Such a cliché. _


	3. Chapter 2: Regrets and Introductions

_Woot, Chapter 2! A little shorter than my other chapters, but not by much. Thanks to all who reviewed/will review, really appreciate it! _

_Also like to give a shout out to my new editor, mangaluver34. We're kind of co-editing now. Check her out, she's got some pretty awesome stories written:_

(insert w w w. f a n f i c t i o n without the spaces... fanfiction doesn't like me putting in URLs).net/u/1856393/mangaluver34

**Chapter 2**

_She's here. _L sat patiently in his dark room, waiting for Naomi to respond to his initial greeting. He could only imagine what the woman was thinking right now. In that one moment, he asked himself _should I really be putting this innocent woman in danger? I know I've done so many times before this, so why is this time any different? Because I know the killer? _His delicate hands were clenched, and he was shaking slightly. Emotion flooded through him and he bit his lip harshly. _Stop it Lawliet, this case is no different from any other…_ his head jerked up as I saw words being typed on the screen. "This is Naomi Misora. It's an honor to speak to you, L."

L considered being tactful, but he decided that with the time limit being concise would be more relevant than politeness. "Naomi Misora, are you familiar with the murder investigation going on in Los Angeles as we speak?"

Even though the next words were typed, he could practically feel the subtle vehemence behind them. "I am not so skilled that I can keep track of all the muder investigations happening in Los Angeles."

"Oh? I am." L mentally chastised himself for the hasty comment. _Oh I'm not good at this sort of stuff… _he stuffed his embarrassment away and said a bit too quickly, "I'm referring to the serial killings – the third victim was found yesterday. HNN new is calling it the Wara Ningyo Murders." Gods, those two words alone sent shivers up his bent back.

"The Wara Ningyo Murders?"

L nodded, his black hair bouncing slightly. He expected that she wouldn't be familiar with the case. She was on leave after all, and FBI agents on leave probably didn't want to keep up with every case that they were presumably missing (even though the FBI hadn't gotten involved in the Wara Ningyo Murders yet). "I would like to solve this case. I _need _to arrest the killer." _Too much emphasis on need, L. _"But your help in this matter is vital, Naomi Misora."

"Why me?"

Sensing that Naomi was somewhat annoyed (and who wouldn't be? He hadn't been tactful at all, really, and had asked her to destroy her computer. Good laptops weren't cheap), he gave her a compliment, even though he realized that the synthetic nature of his voice would make it sound somewhat fake. "Naturally, because you are a skilled investigator, Naomi Misora."

"I'm on leave of absence…" before she finished typing, L responded with, "I know. Isn't that convenient?"

There was a slight pause. _What did I do now? _he wondered. It really was dreadful being so socially awkward. You wouldn't think it would bother him so much by now, but it still did. He inserted his thumb under his lip and watched as more words appeared on his screen. "Okay. I'll help in any way I can."

"Thank you. I knew you would agree." L winced when he realized that probably wasn't the best thing he could have said. He recovered and said, "Let me explain how you will contact me in the future. We have no time, so I'll be brief…" After he explained the procedure, he told Naomi to read about the basic details of the case. She would find the files at her front door. "Is it possible for you to be at the scene tomorrow?"

"Of course."

"Thank you. Goodbye, Naomi Misora." Terminating the connection, he ran his hands down his neck, then brought his hands up and massaged his temples. _Gods, am I hungry… _he asked Watari to bring him some strawberry cheesecake and some more coffee, then spread some police files and pictures out in front of him. _Three victims, and, if my deductions are correct, there will be one more. Unless I can catch him. _Every time he looked at one of the horrific pictures of the victims, he felt nauseous. It wasn't the pictures themselves; he had seen a lot of gruesome things in his time as the number one detective on earth. It was the fact of who had killed the victims that made him queasy. So queasy in fact, that when Watari brought in his cake and coffee, he didn't even want to look at it. Watari looked concerned, but didn't inquire as to L's sudden lack of appetite.

_It's all my fault… these people are dead because of me! I didn't pay enough attention to that boy, I didn't interact with him enough, I shouldn't have called him Backup, I… I… _a warm drop of salty water ran down L's face. He was so confused... not about the case, but about himself and his own feelings. _Do I hate you? Love you? Despise you? Respect you? What's real and what's fake? What's logic and what's my heart? What's moral and what's compassionate? Do morals and compassion even go together? Are they even compatible? _Finally he gave up trying to sort out his troubled conscience, laid his head on the hard tile, and, feeling a strange wave of exhaustion come over him, slept.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

_One day later…_

_Crack! _B's head hit the planks under the bed as he was jarred awake due to the sound of the front door closing. He winced slightly. _Cutting _yourself _is one thing, slamming your head against a hard object unintentionally is another story altogether. _Expertly, he quieted his breathing. The sound of garbled words reached his ears. When the voice came closer, he could distinguish the sounds into individual words. "But L… According to the data I received yesterday – not to state the obvious, but the police have already examined the scene… I'm not sure how you did it, but you already have police reports covering that… so there's no point in my being here?... Well, that's clear enough."

B grinned. Exactly the type of scenario he had envisioned. Judging from the voice, it was a woman, judging from her feet, a tall, lean woman. She wore jeans and had on black Nikes. After the woman talked a bit longer on the phone, she closed her cell phone and stuck it back into her pocket. He listened to her musings for a while: "Not as bad as his killer, but it looks like Believe Bridesmaid was reasonably obsessive himself… under the carpet, behind the wallpaper… no, no, why would he hide the message? He wants it to be found. It's not a message if it isn't found. He sent a crossword puzzle to the police… very egotistical." At that comment B sniffed slightly. _What a derogative term. _"…_to prove that we're stupid._" _I meant nothing of the sort… this is just between L and I, everyone else is irrelevant. _

"You are beneath me, you can never beat me, that's what the messages are saying. Which means… he's not trying to make everything go right and avoid getting caught, he's after something more than his goals… or his making fun of us his primary goal?" _Of course not. You're not worth the dirt beneath my shoes. _

"Who is 'us'? The LAPD? Society? The U.S.A.? The world? No… the scale's too small… This is more personal. So this message… or something like a message…There must be one somewhere in this room… or, wait. There must be… something that _should _be here… the Wara Ningyo? No, those were a symbol for the victims, not a message… the bedroom… oh, right! The occupant! The bedroom's occupant isn't here!"

B heard the sound of papers being rustled. _Good, she's smart enough to follow any clues I might leave for her. _"If you look at them right… these marks… do look like letters… sort of…" She rattled off a few letters, then started mumbling about L. Then, "I guess I should check the other rooms… seems sort of pointless. But if he wiped all the fingerprints in the house…" B saw the shoes turn toward the door. _Come on, you won't even check under the… _before he finished the though, he saw the feet turn toward and then proceed walking toward the bed. _Now's as good a time as any. _Grunting slightly, he hooked one of his hands around the bottom of the bed. He grinned with a sort of satisfaction as the figure jumped back and gasped. She yelled, "What… no, who are you?!" B chuckled slightly. _Your worst nightmare, perhaps? Or maybe a dream? _

He reached his other hand out and pulled himself out, rejoicing to be out from under that bed. He flipped onto his stomach and crawled a little farther away from the bed, then glanced at the woman. Black, long, flowing hair. Pretty dark brown eyes. She stood with confidence. _Naomi Misora, huh? Oh, you die much, much later. I won't have to kill you. Am I happy or sad about that? Doesn't matter, my emotions can't change fate… _his train of thought trailed off, then a new trail picked up. _FBI, maybe? _He watched as she reached into her jacket. _A gun, maybe? No, she would have pulled it out sooner if she really had a gun. _He stood, slouching, and looked up at Naomi due to the slouch. "Nice to meet you." He bowed to hide the slight grin that was tugging at his face. "Please call me Ryuzaki."


	4. Chapter 3: Twisted

_3rd Chapter, sorry it's so long, it was really hard to find an appropriate place to end. Also, sorry if the ending is a litte abrupt, I really wanted to get out another chapter. A little more adherent to the actual book than the last few chapters... would you guys mind if I added some totally non-canon stuff into here? I'm thinking of having L walk in while B and Naomi are at maybe the second scene (maybe the first scene). Something to distance this a little farther from the actual book. I'll try and make it fit. Somehow. Would you guys mind that or...?_

_As always, review are appreciated, and I would really like to know if you think the idea of L walking in is a good one.  
_

**Chapter 3**

B stood back up, cocked his head and gazed at the puzzled looking Naomi Misora, then handed her a card he had made for himself. He had made it look fake on purpose. He wanted to be just suspicious enough so that Naomi would want to stay near him, but innocent enough to not be subject to intense observation. It was a delicate balance to uphold.

He then walked out of the room and sat down on one of the sofas in the living room. He brought his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. Naomi, looking perplexed, wary, and somewhat annoyed, followed and sat on a couch opposite him. "Ryuzaki…" Naomi mused. "Rue Ryuzaki, right?"

"Yes. Rue Ryuzaki," said B matter-of-factly. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and nibbled on it absent-mindedly. He hid a grin as he watched Naomi's face as she read the blatantly fake business card. _I can tell what you're thinking, Naomi. You think that I'm just a bumbling, childish fool who couldn't solve his way out of a closet. _He suppressed the urge to giggle. Her voice suddenly broke the awkward silence (although it was much more awkward for Naomi than B). "According to… _this… _you're a detective?"

"Yes, I am."

"You mean… a private detective."

"No, that term would not be very accurate." He shifted slightly in his seat and raised one hand, palm up. "I feel the word 'private' carries with it an excess of neurotic egotism… you might say I am an unprivate detective – a detective without ego." He placed his hand back on his knee.

"I see…" she said, uncomfortable. B let out a small laugh through his nose when he watched as Naomi delicately placed the card on the table, as far away from her as possible. "So, Ryuzaki… let me ask again, what _exactly _were you doing down there?"

"Same as you. Investigating," B deadpanned, unblinking. When Naomi's eyebrow raised ever so slightly, he expanded his story. "I was hired by the parents of this house's owner – by Mr. Bridesmaid's parents, and am currently conducting an investigation into the killings. It seemed to me that you were here for much the same reason, Misora."

Naomi was silent. B could guess what she was thinking. _Wondering how you can ditch me when you still don't know how much of your conversation with dear little Lawliet I heard? You won't leave me, Naomi, you're far too cautious, and it's quite likely you're curious too… surely I'm an oddity that merits observation? _"Yes… I'm also a detective," Misora replied after the short, gauche silence. _Too carefully. Took too long in answering as well. You're not simply a detective, are you? Probably FBI. _"I can't tell you who I'm working for, but I've been asked to investigate in secret. To find out who killed Believe Bridesmaid, Quarter Queen, and Backyard Bottomslash…"

"Have you? Then we can cooperate!" B interrupted gaily. A slight smirk graced Naomi's face. "Uh huh…. so, Ryuzaki. Ah, did you find anything under the bed that might prove useful to the case? I assume you were looking for something the killer might have left behind, but…"

"No, nothing of the sort. I heard someone come into the house, so I decided to hide and monitor the situation. After a while it became clear that you were not a dangerous character, so I emerged."

"A dangerous character?"

"Yes. For example, the killer himself, coming back to get something he forgot. If that were the case, then what a chance! But apparently my hopes were in vain. " It was a perfect excuse. Not perfect as in airtight, but perfect as in it was believable yet suspiciously simple. Thus, giving Naomi even more of a reason to keep an eye on this suspicious character. "However, instead I have been lucky enough to meet you, so it was not a total write off. This is not a novel or a comic book, so there is no reason for fellow detectives to despise each other. What do you say, Misora? Will you agree to an exchange of information?" he inquired, knowing full well she would refuse.

"No. Thank you for the offer, but I must refuse. I have a duty to keep things secret. I'm sure you have your secrets too."

_More than _you'll _ever know. _"I don't."

"…Of course you do. You're a detective."

_Technically, I'm a serial killer, but I can't very well tell her that, can I? _"Oh? Then I do. _But _it seems to me that solving this case must take precedence…" the lies slid out of his mouth as easily as milk pouring from a carton. "Very well, Misora. How about this: I will provide you with all the information I have in return for nothing." _How you like that deal, Misora?_

"Eh…? Uh, I couldn't possibly."

"Please. Ultimately, it does not matter if I solve the case or you do. My client's wishes are to see the case solved, and only to see it solved. If you possess a sharper mind than my own (_ha! Not likely)_, then telling you everything will be more effective."

B could see the suspicion reflected in Naomi's eyes. Just like he had planned, of course. Everything was according to his plan… "You may decide if you wish to give any of your information to me afterward. So, first, there's this." B reached his hand into his jean's pocket and found the crossword he had made. He drew it out and handed it to Naomi, who remarked, "This is…"

"Oh? You knew about it?"

"Uh no… not directly…" she seemed flustered. Obviously she knew about it, L would have told her. Of course, she couldn't exactly come out and say that.

"Allow me to explain," he said as if he was talking to a child. "Last month, on the twenty-second of July, this crossword was sent to LAPD by an unknown sender. Apparently, nobody could solve it, but if you were able to solve this puzzle, it would give you the address of the house. Presumably it was a sort of warning from the killer to the police and to society in general. A declaration of war, one might say."

"I see. Still… you're sure the answer shows this address."

"Yes. Feel free to keep it and solve it at your leisure if you doubt me." _That's be fun to see. _"Either way, killers that send warnings are generally looking for attention, assuming they do not have some larger purpose. And the Wara Ningyo and locked room aspects of the case fit that profile. So it seems there is a very good chance of some other message… or something like a message, being left at the scene. Do you agree, Misora?"

From the impressed air that came over her, B assumed that L had reached those same conclusions. Of course, B had figured that. _Well, time for a snack. _"Err, excuse me," he said, and planted both feet on the ground, then stood. He slipped out of the room silently, both to get his precious jam and also to let Naomi sort out her feelings. As he walked over to the fridge, he hummed a little tune, stopped, and adjusted the pitch just slightly. He opened the fridge and grinned. _There you are. _He reached in and grabbed the jar. He considered eating in the kitchen and not with Naomi, but he decided it'd be more comfortable to sit on the sofa. He didn't care overmuch what Naomi thought about his strange diet, but it would be interesting to watch her reactions.

Ambling back into the room without bothering to close the refridgerator door, he plopped onto the sofa and began the arduous task of opening the jam jar.

"What's with the jam?"

"Oh, this is mine. I brought it here with me and put it there to keep it cold. It's time for lunch."

"Lunch?"

B grunted slightly and broke the seal with a final twist. Grinning, he dug three fingers into the jar then stuck them into his mouth, using his tongue to lick off every little bit. He took his fingers out then stared at Naomi, his hand hovering above the jar. "Mmm? Something the matter, Misora?"

"Y-you have strange eating habits," she stammered. _Really, are you that disturbed that you stammer? Most people are so limited… _

"Do I? I don't think so."

This time, he only dug two fingers into the jar, and quickly sucked the jam off. "When I start thinking, I get a craving for sweets. If I want to work well, jam is essential. Sugar is good for the brain."

"Hunh…"

B quickly finished off the jar by first spooning handfuls into his mouth and then slurping directly from the jar. He then licked the jam that had leaked onto the outside.

"Sorry for the delay."

"Oh… not at all."

"I have more jam in the refrigerator, would you like some?"

"N-no thanks," Naomi said with one of the fakest smiles B had ever seen. B was slightly disappointed, but not at all surprised.

"Okay." He licked the remaining stickiness from his fingers and stood. "So, Misora, let's go."

"Go? Go where?"

"Obviously, to continue our investigation of the scene, Misora."

During the short walk back to the room, he wondered if Naomi would ask him to leave. There was a small chance she would. Of course, he had responses planned, but if he insisted too vehemently on staying it would shed bad light on him. Fortunately, she didn't voice it; it was obvious she wanted him to leave, but it was equally obvious she felt obliged to keep this _creep_ in her sights. When they entered the room, B abruptly dropped to one knee, the placed his hands on the floor and started crawling, his natural dexterity making it a surprisingly easy task. He glanced back, and, seeing Naomi's bewildered expression, couldn't help teasing her. "What are you waiting for, Misora? Join me!"

He almost laughed as Naomi's eyes grew to the size of half-dollars. She shook her head vigorously, causing her hair to spin around her.

"Oh? What a shame."

"B-but Ryuzaki… I don't think there's anything left here to find. I mean, the police already searched it pretty thouroughly…

"But the police overlooked the crossword puzzle. It would not surprise me at all if they overlooked something else in here."

"If you put it that way… but there's just so little to work with. I wish I had a clue to what I was supposed to be looking for – the room's too empty to just rifle through it at random. And the house is too big."

"A clue…?" B stopped mid-crawl, then slowly, deliberately placed his thumb into his mouth and chewed. "What do you think, Misora? When you came in, did you think of anything? Any idea that might help narrow it down?" _Wonder if she'll realize I'm asking the exact same question as I did earlier, just different wording. _

"Well… yeah but…" She hesitated. "Right… Ryuzaki. As thanks for earlier, rather than a complete exchange of information… have a look at this photograph."

"Photograph?!" He exclaimed jubilantly. He crawled backwards toward Misora then took the picture.

"A picture of the victim…"

B took the picture and a slow grin crept across his face. He looked carefully at the cuts, surprised at how well developed they looked in the photo. The memory of the murder came back but didn't really arouse any sort of emotions from him. It was just something that had to be done. "Well done, Misora!"

"Yes?"

"The news did not mention that the body was cut up like this, which means this photograph is from the police files. I'm impressed that you were able to get your hands on it. You're obviously no ordinary detective," he added.

"…so how did you get hold of the crossword puzzle, Ryuzaki?"

_Oh, I just happen to be the one who made it_. "That would be my duty to keep secrets," he said, still looking at the photo, somewhat immersed in emotionless memories. _That stroke was slightly sloppy… _he frowned when he saw a small, jagged edge on one of the incisions. _Should have done better. _

"I will not ask how you obtained this photograph either, Misora," he said, breaking out of the memories of the murder and turning his attention to Naomi. "But how does this relate to your idea?"

"Yes, well…. I wondered if the message might be on something that isn't in the room anymore, but was in the room at the time. And the most obvious thing that should be here, but isn't…."

_Well done, Misora. _"Is the room's occupant, Believe Bridesmaid. Clever."

"And if you look at that picture from the right angle… do the wounds look like letters to you? I wondered if it might be some sort of message…."

"Oh?" B made a show of studying the paragraph, jerking his head this way and that. _Should I give her another nudge or…? Yes, I think now's a good time. _"No, not letters…"

"No…? I thought I was reading too much into it…"

"No, no, Misora," B said, and he inwardly winced when he realized how fast he had retaliated, "I am not denying the entire idea, just a portion of it. These are not letters, but Roman numerals. I is one, II is two, III is three, IV is four, V is five, VI is six, VII is seven, VIII is eight, IX is nine, L is fifty, C is one hundred, D is five hundred, and M is one thousand. So these wounds can be read as 16, 59, 1423, 159, 13, 7, 582, 724, 1001, 40, 51, and 31. It's just a photograph, so I might not be reading them correctly, but there's an eight percent chance that I'm right.

"Percent?"

"However, I'm afraid that doesn't change the situation. Unless we can figure out what those numbers are supposed to mean, it would be dangerous to assume they are a message from the killer. Perhaps they are simply misdirection."

"…excuse me, Ryuzaki," Naomi said, and took a step backward.

B eyed her. "For what?"

"I need to fix my makeup." She abruptly turn away and headed for the second story bathroom.

B smirked.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

L started with surprise and spilled coffee all over him when the phone rang. _Not again… _not bothering to clean up his mess, he set down the cup away from his precious laptop. "What is it, Naomi Misora?" he inquired after he connected to the signal.

"Something I need to report."

"Progress in the case? Very fast work." _Oh, I pray it's only that… no, if she was being hurt she wouldn't sound so calm._

"No… well, a little. I may have stumbled across a message from the killer."

"Wonderful!"

"But it wasn't me that figured it out." _Oh no… _"How can I put this… a kind of… mysterious private detective… just showed up."

"I see." _No, no, no, this can't be happening… it must be B… well, he obviously has no intention of hurting her, so what could he want? And I can't tell her that he is B, the killer, she'll get afraid, she'll start asking questions, she might slip up and merit B to kill her… no, I just need to let things go their course._

"What should I do? Frankly, I think it's dangerous to take my eyes off him."

"Was he… cool?" The words slipped before L could contain them. _What?! What are you thinking? Surely you don't care what she thinks about a serial killer… do you?_

"Hunh? No, absolutely not. Creepy and pathetic, and so suspicious that if I weren't on leave, I'd move to arrest him the moment I laid eyes on him." _You can't arrest someone for looking strange, Misora…_ "If I divided everyone in the world into those that would be better off dead and those that wouldn't, there's no doubt in my mind he'd be the former. Such a complete freak that it amazes me he hasn't killed himself."

_Well then… she's certainly right that he'd be better off dead. The poor soul. Doesn't matter really, he wouldn't give a wit about her opinion of him, just as soon see her dead… the monster. _His fists clenched and he replied, "So, Naomi Misora, your instructions."

"Yes?"

"I imagine you are thinking much the same thing as I am," _Oh, not even close, _"but let this private detective do what he likes for the moment. Partly because he's a dangerous character to let out of your sight, but more importantly to observe his actions. I believe the credit for the autopsy photograph deductions belong to you more than it does for him, but he is clearly no ordinary person.

"I agree."

"Is he close by?"

"No, I'm alone."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

B stood outside the door, listening and grinning like a lunatic. _Little Lawliet, I wonder what you're thinking… you know it's me, and you dread what I'll do to your little secret lover… don't worry, I won't do anything to her. I'll be dead long before her death date. _The thought was almost masochistically comforting.

He toned down his grin as the door opened and stared right into Naomi's surprised eyes. _Hello_.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

L's sign echoed eerily around him. He was actually confused at this point; _should _he tell Naomi that the one that she's investigating with is the killer?

He stood and walked down the dark, metallic hallway that led out of the underground facility. As he walked, he nibbled on his lip and ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, sweeping up any stray cake crumbs that might be hiding. _I need to make sure that it actually is B. If it isn't then… then what? The guy would probably just be a nuisance and a hindrance. No, from the description of the man he must be B. Still, can't be too sure. No, you can be too sure if that which you are sure about is false. _At that, he decided he would physically go to the house and would try and see if the man really was B. A dangerous move, perhaps, but L had to be sure.

He opened the door after entering the code then stretched as he let the gentle radiance of the sun bathe him in a subtle heat. _I really should get out more. _He easily jogged through the woods until he hit the trails, then ran along the trails, his sockless ankles starting to chafe and his unexercised muscles starting to burn. It was a nice kind of pain though… the kind of pain that he figured connected him to the real world. The world of people with trivial pursuits and goals; to lose ten pounds, to stay fit, to make a lot of money… how trivial they did seem. Sweat started pouring down his neck, and he was getting winded. After a few more minutes he halted to a complete stop and leaned on his knees, huffing and puffing, his shaggy, black hair hanging in his face, his white shirt stained with sweat. _I'm not cut out for this… _he found himself wondering _why _he had just randomly decided to go for an afternoon jog. There was no logical explanation for it. _Perhaps logic isn't all there is to life. _He straightened and wiped his damp face with his shirt sleeve. He watched as a shirtless, muscular jogger passed him and gave him a disdainful look, seeming to make a show of how fast he could run compared to the winded freak in the middle of the trail. L stared at him, not angry, rather pitying of the man. _Little does he realize how meaningless it all is. _


	5. Chapter 4: Disturbances

_Gah! Sorry it took so long to update, I was busy writing my oneshot Restitution: Angels and Demons, something a lot different from Beyond the Murder Cases (it's about B and Light, if you like Beyond the Murder Cases, you might like it). I'm working on two other oneshots too, so progress of BMC might be a little slower than usual. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Many thanks to all who reviewed/will review, I really appreciate ^.^_

_I wish you all jam and sugary coffee. _

Chapter 4

"Misora. You were up here?"

_Naomi Misora. What do I think about you?_

In B's mind, she was nothing but a puppet, a lackey, a dog doing the bidding of a master much more worthy and deserving of his competition, nay, his attention even. It almost disgusted him to have to deal with such rabble; the people of the common world, whose heads were stuck in the trivial concerns of normal people. That's one thing B had always respected about L; he didn't care how he was portrayed to the world, he was just himself, who he was.

Yet there was something about Misora that B liked. A spunk, a kind of relaxed, sure demeanor, even if she was sometimes unsure of her deductions. She was probably a lot more disturbed or nervous than she let on, and the fact that she could control the aura she gave off was at least worthy of note. And she was rather intelligent, at least compared to most people. Intelligent enough to follow his clues, but not intelligent enough to figure out his true purpose behind the clues. Only person who might be that smart is L. _We'll just see about that, won't we? _

"After you left the room, I discovered something interesting, and was unable to wait. So I came to get you. Are you quite finished?"

"Y-yes…" she stammered. B turned and walked off, chuckling quietly to himself for no real apparent reason. He almost-skipped down the stairs, then stopped. "Oh, Misora…?"

"Y-yes?"

_Maybe you're less strong than I thought you were. You that worried about me? _"Why didn't I hear the toilet flush before you left the room?"

Her hesitation confirmed B's initial thoughts; that maybe such a question was socially awkward. He shrugged. He didn't have time to concern himself with that. "It's rather rude to ask a girl something like that, Ryuzaki."

"Huh, is it? Nevertheless… if you forgot to flush, it is not too late, You can still go back. The genders are equal when it comes to sanitary behavior."

He cocked his head, wondering if she would choose her pride or letting on that she was on the phone. She chose the latter. _Somewhat foolish of her, but since she probably knows I heard… _"I was on the phone. Just a regular check-in with my client. But I did not want you to hear some of it."

"Oh? But either way, from now on, I recommend flushing. It provides good camouflage."

"I suppose it does."

The awkwardness of that entire situation was almost completely lost on B. His mind was just not built that way.

When they reached the bedroom, B got back onto his four limbs and crawled easily over to the bookshelves. He slid into a more comfortable position and glanced at Naomi.

"You said you found something new?"

"Yes. Something new – no, let us be bold. I have uncovered an important fact. Look here," he said, pointing to a set of manga.

"What about it?"

"I love this manga."

"You do?"

"I do. You're Nikkei, aren't you?"

"Nikkei…? My parents are both from Japan. My passport's American now, but I lived in Japan until after high school…"

"So you must know this manga. Min Ayahana-sensei's legendary creation. I read every issue as it was serialized. Shiine is so adorable! I liked the anime just as much as the manga. Love and courage and hope – Holy Up!"

"Ryuzaki, are you going to go on like this for a while? If so, I can wait in the other room.."

_Ha, well that was subtle. _"Why would you do that when I'm talking to you?"

"Er… um, I mean, I liked _Akazukin Chacha_ too. I watched the anime. I also experience the love, courage, hope and Holy Up."

"Good. We shall discuss the pleasures offered by the anime another time, but for the moment, look here."

The purpose of that strange prelude was simple, really. The trickiest part of his entire operation was giving Naomi little nudges towards the right answer without seeming _too _knowledgeable or too suspicious and involved. A way to do that was to say and do absurd things. That way, in Naomi's mind, she would at least subconsciously distance him from the killer (the other way was to try and seduce her, but that wasn't B's style at all). After all, you wouldn't think such a cold, calculating criminal would be such an ADHD cretin, would you?

Naomi grunted and leaned down closer to look at the shelf.

"Notice anything?

"Not really…"

_I'm disappointed. Surely this is easier than the other hints I've dropped. _B stared at her, looking her up and down, adeptly hiding the slight disdain he was feeling. _It's so simple. _

"I don't see anything… something about one of these comics?"

"No," B said, trying to make sure to keep any smug notes out of his voice.

"Hunh? No? What do you mean…"

"_Not one of these_. Something that should be here, but isn't. Misora, you are the one who figured this out! Any messages from the killer are indicated by the absence of what should be here. You're the one who figured out that this must refer to the body of Believe Bridesmaid. I didn't think I would need to explain this to you. Look closely, Misora. They aren't all there. Volumes four and nine are missing." B was somewhat dissatisfied that he'd had to give such an obvious hint. _Undermines my brilliance. _

"_Akazukin Chacha _ran for thirteen volumes. Not eleven."

"Hmm… right. But… Ryuzaki, so what you meant the killer took those two volumes with him It's certainly a possibility, but it seems equally likely they were missing in the first place. Maybe he planned to pick them up soon. Not everyone reads manga in order, you know. I mean, he seems to have stopped halfway through the _Dickwood _series up here…"

"Impossible," B said assuredly. _This will be difficult… I'm going to risk looking suspicious if I press too hard. No, at this point she just thinks I'm a creep. She won't suspect anything, I don't think, not after I convinced her that I love this manga. _"No one on earth would _ever_ skip two volumes in the middle of _Akzukin Chacha. _I am absolutely sure of this fact would pass muster in court. Or at least, if the members of the jury knew much about Japanese comics."

"What a biased jury," Naomi quipped.

Pretending to ignore her but slightly amused, B continued. "The killer has obviously taken them with him.

"But you have no proof of that at all, Ryuzaki. It's equally possible he just loaned them to a friend."

_Stubborn. That's good. _"_Akazukin Chacha?! _You wouldn't even loan it to your parents! You'd tell them to but their own! The only possible explanation is that the killer took them away!" It didn't matter that the explanation was totally illogical; it only mattered that Naomi at least consider what he was saying. "Furthermore, no one on earth would ever want to read volumes four and nine! I'd bet my jam on it!"

"If you're referring to the jam you were eating earlier, a jar of that only goes for around five bucks."

_Well, technically, that was specially made jam ordered off the Internet that costs $8.99 a pop but… _"So it follows, Misora, that when the killer removed those two volumes from the room he had some other, completely unrelated reason for doing so.

Naomi gave a resigned sigh. "Since it is true that those two volumes are missing, ignoring logic and the possibility for the moment and following along the hypothetical… it's still strange isn't it? I mean, Ryuzaki, this bookshelf…" she gasped slightly and stared hard at the bookshelf. B nodded slightly. "Ryuzaki. Do you know how many pages there are in volumes four and nine of _Akuzukin Chacha_?"

"I do. 192 and 184 pages."

Naomi glanced at B, somewhat stunned, then resumed scanning the bookshelf, look for a book thick enough to contain 376 pages. She found it (_Insufficient Relaxation _by Permit Winder) and pulled it off the shelf. Of course, it was 376 pages long. B watched patiently as Naomi flipped through it. "What is it, Misora?"

"Oh… I was wondering if the killer had put a book on the shelf to replace the two he took off, and if that book was the real message…"

Her voice trailed off. B guessed she was wondering about whether the killer did it or if it was just Believe Bridesmaid's obsessive tidiness. B decided he should probably keep her going along the mental path she was on. "Not a bad idea. No, rather a good idea. Nothing else makes sense." B reached out his hand and grinned as she jumped slightly. She handed over the book. B grabbed it delicately with his thumb and forefinger, then opened it and flipped through it. He had memorized the book earlier, but he needed to refresh his memory. "I see!"

"Eh? You found something?"

"No. There's absolutely nothing here. Don't look at me like that. I swear, I'm not joking. This is just an ordinary entertainment novel, not a message, or even a metaphor like the Wara Ningyo. And of course, there are no letters of any kind hidden between the pages, nor anything scribbled in the margins." He slightly accentuated the word _margins_.

"The margins?"

Cocking his head to the side, he said with the slightest hint of a purr, "Yes, there was nothing in the margins but the page numbers."

"Page numbers…" Misora echoed. "Ryuzaki, assuming those cuts on the victim's chest were Roman numerals, what did they say?" B let his eyes slide shut for a moment. "16, 59, 1423, 159, 13, 7, 582, 724, 1001, 40, 51, 31. What about them?"

"I was just wondering if they were pointing at the pages in this book, but… two of the numbers were four digits. The book's only 376 pages long. They don't match."

"yes… no, Misora, what if it wraps around? For example, 476 could mean 376 plus one hundred, which would indicate page one hundred."

"…meaning what?"

"I don't know… let's try it out…" he rattled off the numbers, looking like he was thinking but not really. "…I see."

"That there's nothing there?" B detected slight annoyance in her voice.

"No… there is something there. Something very specific, Misora." Handing back the book, he instructed her to open the book to page 16. They went through all the pages and made mental notes of the first word on every page: Quadratic, ukulele, tenacious, rabble, table, egg, arbiter, equable, thud, effect, elsewhere, and name.

"So."

"So… what about it?"

"Take the first letter of each word."

"The first letter? Um…" She flipped through the pages, and came up with qutrteaeteen. "Qurt tea teen? What?"

"Very similar to the second victim's name, don't you think?"

"I suppose… there is a vague resemblance… Quarter Queen… only four letters are different."

"Yes…" B knew that he would have to somehow push her in the right direction while acting skeptical. Difficult. "Four out of twelve is too many. One third of them are wrong. If even one letter is different, then the entire theory falls apart. Unless it matches _perfectly_, it's not worth calling a message. I thought there might be something there, but it may well be just a coincidence." Of course, B knew that there were too many similarities for a detective such as Naomi to simply pass off as coincidence. "But, for a coincidence…"

"Still, Misora… if it doesn't match, it doesn't match. We were very close, but…"

"No, Ryuzaki." B smiled. "Think about it. All four wrong letters match up with the numbers over 376. They're all the numbers where we had to wrap around."

Naomi flipped through the pages once more, murmuring to herself. "Three times through, and on the fourth lap… we don't use the first letter, but the fourth letter. Not T, but A. And with 582…" she did the same process with all of the other wrong letters, which turned the jumble of letters into 'Quarter Queen'.

B nodded. "Nice work, Misora. Very good deduction. I never would have thought of it."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

L stood across the street from the first crime scene, gauging whether or not he should walk in and try to get some reaction from B. He _had _to know if B recognized him; depending on if he did or not, it could help L figure out why he did what he did; in case seemed more aggressive than previously observed, and thus L would have indirectly put Naomi in jeopardy. He was dressed back up in his pothead attire, planning to go into the crime scene and watch B's reactions. While B was an expert at hiding his reactions, he might make a mistake, or even tell L (indirectly, of course) that he recognized him as L's contact who came to Wammy's. L also wanted B to know that L was on his tail, and that he would be apprehended soon because of that. Normally, L wouldn't go to these lengths, but this case was personal.

Finally, he walked across the street, not noticing or caring as a car whizzed by him, honking loudly. He almost tripped on the curb and hissed when one of his chains got wrapped around his leg. _Good grief… _he untangled himself then walked up the front walkway. He opened the door and rounded the corner.


	6. Chapter 5: Meeting

_All right, chapter 5 ^.^ None of this is from the book because I have lent my book to someone else and haven't gotten it back yet, but I still wanted to update so... here's the result!_

_And I'd like to extend some more thanks to my editor, mangaluver34. Without her my stories would probably be a lot worse. Check out her stories, give her some reviews and some favs._

**Chapter 5**

B wrapped his hand around the bedpost and used it to help him stand. "Well Misora, I can safely say that there are no other clues to be had here. About time we should leave, wouldn't you say?"

Naomi nodded, relieved that she could finally leave the crime scene, and consequently, Ryuzaki. B rubbed his hands together. "Misora, how about we meet at the second crime scene tomorrow, at ten o'clock?"

Naomi paled. "Um… sure," she said, and B figured that while she was surprised by the offer, she felt obliged to accept. B nodded and turned, shocked to see L standing in the doorway. Of course, he wasn't dressed as L, but rather in the same garb as last time, but still… what's he thinking? Almost immediately, he realized the benefits of showing L himself. Mainly, he could gauge B's reaction and see if B recognized him as the man from Whammy's (ignorant of the Shinigami eyes, of course) and see if Naomi was in any greater danger, and also to just scope out the place and see how they were getting along. Not a bad tactic, B had to admit. However, the main benefit hinged on him revealing that he recognized L. Shifting through his options, he decided to let L know that he recognized him. Partly out of a type of pride, and partly so that L would feel more strongly about keeping Naomi on the case, since B had probably made it clear that he didn't want to hurt her. "What are you doing here?" asked B, narrowing his eyes, trying to figure out how to send a message to L without alerting Naomi or get Naomi out of the room without seeming overtly suspicious. He stared hard into L's eyes, and grinned slightly at the reflection in them.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

L was panting heavily, carefully observing every move and gesture B made. He was slightly worried about Naomi being suspicious because he was so nervous, but would seem natural for him to seem nervous anyway. And as for B… It was still unclear as to whether or not he recognized him or not. Is it because he realizes who I am and doesn't want to tip me off or does he really not know me…? "Oh… uh… didn't expect you to be here again. Err, I don't see why you would mind me looking at the crime scene… do you… mind, that is?" In the actual presence of B, his carefully plotted out lines vanished from his mind.

Naomi stepped in and stated, "Yes. There is. First of all, the pictures that give us any idea of anything are too graphic for someone such as yourself to view." At this L felt nauseous. Mostly because he realized exactly how much of his innocence he had lost; he was able to look at worse photos and feel nothing…

"Shoot, I think I can handle it," L said casually, walking into the bedroom and leaning against the bedpost next to B. B glanced at him briefly then nodded. "I agree with Naomi Misora. You should leave."

L shook his head, his black hair becoming disheveled. Ahh man… he thought. His hair was back in its natural state and looked disturbingly similar to B's. B's expression hadn't changed at all, though. "Naomi Misora, you must be tired. Why don't you leave? Tomorrow at ten, we'll meet. "

Naomi was baffled at Ryuzaki's sudden change of mood. "No, I can stay here."

"No, I insist. It's just an unruly teenager, I can handle him."

Naomi opened her mouth to protest, then caught herself. Why was she so worried about leaving Ryuzaki alone with this kid? Ryuzaki would probably never do anything to harm the kid, and her presence wasn't needed anyway. Also, she wanted to be out of Ryuzaki's presence as soon as possible. With a slight inclination of the head, she left, leaving B and L alone.

When B heard the door slam, he turned to L and grinned toothily. At that, L coughed slightly and asked, "What's that grin for, man?"

B sneered and stuck his nose right in L's face, causing L to fall back onto the bed. B got on the bed with L and straddled him, looking down him with crazy eyes, his hair hanging haphazardly in his face. "Didn't ever expect to see you again," he said smoothly, trailing a finger down L's shoulder to his wrist. L was shuddered at the touch, nearly petrified. What have I got myself into? He felt B's hands clamp over his wrists, making it impossible for him to try and shove B off. In this position, he couldn't even try and kick B off the bed with one of his surprisingly powerful strikes. He was completely helpless. L calmed his breathing and heart rate, and adjusted his face into its normal, expressionless façade. "Why, hello there B."

B's smirk sent chills up and down L's back. "Why hello there, Lawliet."

L's mouth dropped open slightly. So… he did remember?

A scene from when L had first visited Whammy's came rushing back to L's mind. He had been walking down one of the luxurious halls, eating a slice of cake, when B's shoulder happened to brush against his. L, looking up from his cake, saw a blur of black and white, and then felt words tickling his ear. "Hello Lawliet." With that, L whirled, sending cake flying off the plate and landing on the floor. There were few things that could distract L from the casualty of one of his precious shortcake slices. The revelation that someone knew his real name, and presumably his identity, was one of those rare occasions. L stared into B's eyes and stammered slightly, but before he could say anything, B turned unhurriedly on his heel and rounded a corner. L ran (it also takes a lot to make L run) after B, but when he rounded the corner, B was nowhere to be found. With that, L had sighed and had scraped the cake off the wooden floor, called Watari to mop up the remaining icing, and proceeded to eat the slightly ruined cake. He had pondered that incident for weeks and months; how could B have possibly known his real name? L himself even forgot it at times, and other than that only his real parents, who had been long dead, knew his actual name, which had been erased from every conceivable record when Lawliet became L. There was no logical way B could have known L's real name. None.

Yet he did.

The next day, everything was normal. B was as stoic and anti-social as ever, and treated L with the same deferring yet contemptuous manner he always had. He made no mention at all of the incident; nay, if that memory hadn't been so ingrained into L's mind, he would have thought it was just his imagination.

Now, as he lay there under a smirking B, who called him his real name for the second time, all of L's forgotten feelings arose again, causing him to squirm. B's sneer never left his face, but he did grasp L's wrists all the tighter.

L stopped moving and took a breath. He couldn't allow himself to show fear…. Fear only fueled B's sadism. L managed to work up a slight smirk as he said, "It's been a while, Backup." He realized it probably wasn't a good idea to be riling B, but he was trying to emanate an aura of control, even when he obviously wasn't in control.

The word didn't even phase B. "Too long, Lawliet. Much, much too long. When was the last time we saw each other? About four years ago, was it?"

L nodded calmly. "Four years, three months and twenty one days."

"Oh, you counted! I'm flattered." With that, B released L's wrists and hopped easily off the bed, landing on the carpet. L scrambled off the bed much less gracefully, but managed to regain composure and stare B steadily in his eyes. His dark, obsidian eyes. A toothy grin broke out over B's face. "You figured out who my last victim will be yet?"

At that, L snarled. "You're a monster now, B. Why? Why kill the innocent?"

"Why kill the innocent? Who said I killed the innocent?"

"You killed a thirteen year old."

"Is anyone truly innocent? No. We've all done something to hurt other human beings, and in my eyes, we're all guilty. Equally and shamefully guilty. You are just as bad as I am, yet you prance around as if you're the most perfect creature on the face of this earth. Being the 'number one detective'," at this B snorted, "doesn't make you morally better than anyone."

"I never thought it did."

"Then stop whining about how I killed 'innocents'. Just whine about how I killed people."

At that L set his jaw and tried to contain his growing anger. "So you don't care? To you this is just a game?"

"With very high stakes, yes." B's head cocked to the side and his smirk disappeared. "Of course, that's what you consider this, too. "

"Ha," L said dryly. "I do not consider people's lives toys or pieces to be manipulated…"

"But you still use them, don't you?"

"I give them choice…"

"What choice do they have when you ask them for assistance? They don't. Your imposing status makes it so that they have almost no choice in the matter, and you force them to do things that they otherwise would not do. In this way, how are you different from a criminal? Sticking your dirty, guilty, sin laden hands into people's lives and twisting them to fit how you think they should go. Explain how you're innocent of mass extortion."

At that, L was silent. In fact, this same question had bothered him many a night when he had first began his long, 'glorious' 'career' as the head detective in the world. He had learned to set aside the concern, but the fact that B could so skillfully remind him of long buried feelings unnerved him.

B smiled sweetly. "That's what I thought, Lawli."

Bristling, L snapped, "Don't call me that!"

B smiled. "Why not, Lawli?"

L licked his lips and sighed heavily. "How did you even know my real name?"

"Does it matter? All you need to know is that I know it. Knowing how I got it won't change anything, will it?"

L opened his mouth to say something then shut it. He was going to mention how it could help with the case, but that would reveal he had basically nothing that could convict B. Also, L felt himself getting much too friendly with his previous successor. He was feeling almost at ease. How does he do that?!

"I suppose it doesn't." L's voice came out dry and almost grating, as if he was talking with a scratchy throat. L swallowed. His throat was dry. Very dry. He looked up and B was gone. Gone? Gone! How can he be gone? L darted out the door, crashing into B, who was holding a jam jar. L bounced off of B, B emitted no reaction except a small smirk. "In a hurry to find me?" With that, he set himself down comfortable on the edge of the bed, twisted open the jar, and tossed the lid unceremoniously onto the carpet. He ran his finger around the edge of the top of the gelatinous mass to loosen it, then tilted the jar back at a steep angle, set his lips to the edge of the mass and sucked. In a matter of seconds all of the jam was down B's throat and into his belly. He hadn't spilled a single drop. He tossed the jar the way of the lid and stared at L, unblinking. "You know, I don't hate you. Never did. I don't like you either. My quarrel is with your position, I suppose. I'm doing all this to prove that I am worthy of your position. This isn't personal."

"It doesn't matter." L sighed, almost wanting to sit on the bed next to B and chat for old time's sake, but he resisted the urge. He really was a likeable fellow… he had been popular at Wammy's when he had been young, despite his dark tendencies. "You have committed crimes, it's my job to apprehend you."

"Of course. Otherwise, this whole game would be for naught." At that B slid easily off the bed and left the room, glancing over his shoulder to leave a parting remark: "I wonder who will win."

The closing of the front door broke the heavy silence for a split second, then L was forced to reconcile with his thoughts once more.


	7. Chapter 6: Upset

_Sorry, the update took a bit longer than I wanted it to, but you'll forgive me, right? _^.^

_Nothing really to say about this chapter so... read, enjoy and review? _

Chapter 6

B struggled with wires for a few seconds then nodded with approval when he heard the car start. Grand theft auto… never thought I'd become something as petty as a car thief. In B's eyes, anything that did not involve shedding blood was a petty crime.

The stolen car was important for a couple reasons. One, he didn't feel like stalking Naomi on foot, which would require time he did not have, and two, he needed to trace the trail of her attacker away from himself. The owner of the car was a man who had been a suspected for several accounts of assault and gang involvement but was never convicted. Made for the perfect cover for B.

He drove onto a main street and parked where he could get out using a lamp post for cover. He donned a mask, grabbed a club and a blackjack and slid out of the car, using the lamp post for cover and slipped into an alleyway that he knew would connect to where Naomi was headed. So far, Naomi had proven herself, but B was wondering exactly how skilled she was. If she didn't completely match up to the strict standards he used when it came to psychological battles, he might abandon the plan altogether. What would he prove by defeating someone who was even slightly underneath his requirements? Nothing.

This was also a precaution. He wanted to see exactly how physically skilled Naomi was, to see how hard he could fight her without hurting her but without getting himself injured. He didn't particularly like hurting people unless there was a rather good reason… Naomi didn't really deserve to be hurt. And as for why he might have to fight her… well, you could never know. What if he accidentally met her as B and not Ryuzaki? He might have to fight his way away from her then concoct another plan to defeat L.

It really was an elaborate step for a situation that would probably never happen, but B liked his plans perfect.

Which is why he always won.

Even at Wammy's, B refused to compete with someone who he didn't consider worthy to become successor to L. This was back when he didn't mind the idea of being merely a successor… that came later. His hardheadedness landed him in worlds of trouble with Roger, but he absolutely would not lower his standards. In this way, he was similar to L, who wouldn't take on cases he considered beneath him, and he constantly reminded his teachers of that fact. Eventually they were so exasperated that they granted B his wish, and he would only compete with A and C, who were the only other two children in Wammy's at that time who were going to be L's successors (Wammy's took in other bright children besides the successors, but few were ever actually considered to be successors). While C and B were somewhat close, A and B developed a special bond. They both had similar interests and a similar demeanor; C was brighter and B often found himself thinking that she was annoying. B couldn't talk to her about his dark tendencies and interests. With A, however…they spent hours speculating on death and the afterlife, sitting under the great oak trees behind Wammy's, laughing at the children who pointed at them and taunted them as outcasts and hermits.

Of course, that all changed after A committed suicide.

B rounded a corner and barely avoided kicking a can of beer that was lying in the middle of the alley, empty and lonely. Kind of how B was after A's death.

After A died, B was left with no friends. He and C studied together, sure, but they couldn't just sit and talk. They had no mutual interests whatsoever. They were as different as night and day, and incompatibly so. They had respect for each other, and that was it.

Why A killed himself, B never knew exactly. He had seemed fine until he was found, one day, hung from a tree. On that day A had been distant, melancholy. Later B had figured out it was because A's grades had been slipping steadily, and he hadn't been able to attain perfection. He was still brilliant, but he just couldn't handle what Wammy's had recently been throwing at them. His only desire had been to succeed L… when he realized he couldn't do that, what was there to live for? B figured it was that mindset that had killed A.

So B decided he would change his own mindset.

He wouldn't merely strive to be a successor… he would strive to be L, to surpass L. It was the least he could do to honor his best friend's death. That wasn't the only factor that had driven him to leave Wammy's and become a criminal, of course, but it had been a driving factor.

The blackjack swung as he turned to face Naomi and bumped his leg softly. The club was hanging easily by his side. The mask made his breath echo, and to him it seemed impossibly loud. He knew that Naomi couldn't possibly hear it, but it still bothered him. He took one walking step forward, then sprinted toward Naomi and swung the blackjack, not striving to actually connect but not wanting to make it easy to dodge either.

Naomi reacted amazingly well. She ducked, landing on her two hands, and kicked out with both legs, using her hands to propel her. She twisted sideways to face B and landed in a crouch, feet apart, right hand in front of her face. B smirked slightly, the expression not visible behind the mask. _Very, very good Misora_… He swung with the club, this time attempting to connect, knowing she would probably dodge but wanted to see anyway. She did, extravagantly at that. She sprang the side, landed on her hands and twisted, trying to hit B with her heel. He easily leapt back, and, feeling his back hit the wall, turned and ran. He turned the corner and climbed into the sedan as inconspicuously as possible. He slid off the mask and ran his hands through his hair, smiling slightly as it sprang back into its normal position; just plain wild. He drove to the parking lot he had stolen the car from, stuffed the mask, blackjack, and club under the seat and left the car.

He walked down the street, cracked his neck and smirked, not caring about the odd looks he received from people. He estimated he had about seven minutes to get to the crime scene. More than enough time. He sprinted to the crime scene, and, knowing LA exceptionally well and being a very athletic person, reached it in a little under three minutes. Heading over to the bathroom, B washed his face and cleaned up a bit so he wouldn't look like he had just taken a jog; Naomi would inevitably wonder why he was running.

_Ugh, this is going to be awkward… still, I'd rather get her mind off of the recent attack. If she thinks about it too much she might notice that my body is very similar to that of her recent assailant._ He walked over to the victim's drawers and started rifling through the top one, which happened to contain underwear. Despite his absolute ignorance of social standards and his tendency to not give a rip if people thought negatively of him, it still made him feel weird to be rifling through the female victim's very personal belongings.

At that moment, Naomi walked through the door. Without turning, he said, "Ah, Misora. You're late. Please try to be on time. Time is money, and therefore life."

B chuckled as he heard Naomi's poorly concealed sigh of exasperation. He had no interest in such things as children's underwear, of course, but Naomi wouldn't know that. The whole point had been to disarm her. She was bound to be somewhat miffed about the attack in the alley, and B had thought about different ways to just make it awkward for her to speak or complain. This was the most straightforward way. After a relatively long silence, she said, "We're talking about a single mother here, right? Who has now moved back in with her parents? It must have been devastating..."

_Way to state the obvious... I need to segue into the case and not the poverty of the occupants... they didn't even know true suffering. _"Yes. These apartments were built for college students, intended to house only one, so a young girl and her mother living here attracted a fair amount of attention. I asked around a little this morning, and heard many interesting things. But most of them were already in the police report you showed me yesterday. The mother was out of town at the time of the murders, and the body was discovered by a college girl who lived next door. The mother first saw her daughter's body in the morgue." The words came from B's lips without any emotion; truthfully, he could care less how much the mother mourned. B observed as Misora observed the holes in the walls. _Curse her... I need to get her attention off the Wara Ningyos. Now. "_Something bothering you, Misora?"

"Yes, yesterday, we," B noted the emphasis on 'we', "decoded the message the killer left at the scene of the first murder, but... the Wara Ningyo and the locked room remain mysteries."

_Curse you, Misora..._ there was no real vehemence behind the sentiment, but it seemed appropriate. "Yes," he said, dropping to his knees then his haunches t try and divert her attention from the Wara Ningyo to him.. He crawled precariously around the crowded room. _I wonder sometimes if this crawling is necessary._ "But Misora, I don't think it's worth wasting much time on the locked room issue. This is not a mystery novel - realistically speaking, it's quite possible he simply used a spare key. There are no keys that cannot be duplicated."

"True enough, but do you really think this killer would do something so prosaic? There was no real need to create a locked room in the first place. But he did so anyway. In which case, it might be some kind of puzzle..."

"Puzzle?"

"Or a game of some kind."

"Yes.... yes, maybe..." he stopped crawling and sat much like he had seen L sit; crouched, hands on his knees, nibbling his thumbnail. _She's good... too good maybe?_ B wasn't really worried; he was confident that the real reason behind the locked rooms wouldn't be discovered. Still, that Naomi could get so close yet still not realize the true purpose made B's task that much more fulfilling.

"What would you do, Ryuzaki?" B turned toward her. "If you were trying to lock it from the outside?"

"Use a key."

"No, not like that…if you'd lost the key."

"Use a spare key."

"No, not like that... you don't have a spare key either."

B smirked almost imperceptibly. "Then I wouldn't lock it."

Naomi sighed. "If this were a mystery novel.... locked rooms are always created by a trick, like with a needle and a thread, or..... I mean, we call it a locked room, but these are just ordinary rooms, so they're never that secure. They aren't like Bridesmaid's bookshelves –they've got plenty of gaps and chinks around the frame. String could get under it easily.... run a bit of string under the door, and tie it to the edge of the latch, and pull it..."

_I need to shut off this train of thought now._ "Impossible. The gap isn't that big, and the angle would kill the force applied. You could try it out, but too much of the string would be pressed against the door. Pulling the door toward you."

"Yeah... but a lock this simple doesn't leave much room for a trick. The doors in detective novels usually have much more complicated ones."

"There are many ways to create a locked room. And we can't rule out the possibility he had a key. More important, Misora, is the question of why the killer made a locked room. He had no need to make one, but he did so anyway. If he made a puzzle, why did he do it?" B hoped Misora wouldn't see the smirk forming on his face. He had been slightly nervous about her train of thought, but he decided it would be more fun to tease her without her knowledge, dangle the answer in front of her face, and laugh inwardly as she struggled with the answer as it continually slipped through her fingers.

"As a game. For fun."

"Why?"

At that Naomi sighed, resigned, unknowingly, to B's twisted pleasures, and pulled out a photograph from her bag; pictures of the second victim, killed in this room – a young blonde girl, wearing glasses, lying on her face. When B looked at the picture and saw the faint dent in her head, he recalled the murder briefly. Sneaking up behind the girl with a nondescript metal bat, smashing it into her head... boring, to put it plainly. No experiments whatsoever, like his last murder, since the removal of the limbs allowed him liberty to experiment with said limbs. Even the removal of the eyes provided to entertainment. B sighed inwardly. Murder has just gotten so... dull. "Killing a child... how horrible."

_Pfft... I thought you were stronger than that, Naomi_. "Killing an adult is also horrible, Misora. Killing children or adults... equally horrible." _If it is horrible at all. Really, humanity just lives to die... what's the matter with someone hastening someone toward their ultimate goal?_


End file.
